Tuesday, 3 January 2012

A perfect day at the office.

Today I am demented.  No that's not enough.  Today I am DEMENTED.

Today is the day that everything starts functioning properly again in the UK.  There are no more bank holidays, no more skeleton staff, no more tins of roses for lunch, it is well and truly 'Business as  Usual'.

Foolishly I had expected things to still be fairly quiet and had planned a leisurely day, catching up with my team, wishing people happy new year and accepting compliments about my newly dyed hair (I've dyed it again since I mentioned it to you, its a glorious red now, rich and vibrant but more about my hair later)

Its the worlds windiest day and its raining that horrible sideways wind that soaks you so much more comprehensively than your standard downwards rain.  Its still pitch black and to add damp insult to sopping injury I somehow manage to get my feet tangled up in the strap of my laptop bag and almost end up face down in the car park (which won't be the first time as you know). However I manage to salvage the situation by doing one of those forward stumbling run things, which would make anyone look like a complete tit. I am soaked, my trousers and pants feel as they would if you had wee'd yourself (I'd imagine)

Anyway I arrive in the office to complete and utter chaos.  It would seem ours is the only office who's phone lines work, so we're getting every ones calls.  I think about cheerily greeting my team but they look like they might cry/kill someone.  I start to log my lap top in while surreptitiously sweeping all my dangerous stationary into my drawer and locking it.

I'm not for one second suggesting the current situation might cause my team to turn to violence but I'm taking no chances.  I once had to stop Claire from sticking a sign on the back of her orthopaedic chair asking people not to adjust it if they sat in it.  Which is fair enough, she does have a bad back, however the sign she typed up said.


You be surprised how much damage you could do with a hole punch I'm right to lock them away.  They're still snarling so I decide my red hair may well be angering them further (like irritated bulls) so I put  my black beret on tuck my hair up inside it and there I sit at my lap top in my hat.

After a couple of hours I'm called into a meeting to discuss resourcing (IE how many bums we have on seats).  I need you to understand that when I go into a meeting I change from myself into the bastard lovechild of Deborah Meadon and Alan Sugar.


  • That's a good idea, we should do that.
  • Awesome plan, you've got my buy in.

  • Right, I'll ask him.
  • No problem, I'll position that to him.

  • I'll have a word with her
  • Cool, I'll link in with her

  • I'm sure we can sort it out soon
  • Lets look for some quick and dirty fixes
  • OK I'll tell them now that we're doing it
  • Great, I'll 'comms' the guys to implement the workaround

  • They're buying in shops and online
  • Its all about the 'bricks and clicks' (I feel the most disgust about this one, so much so I've deleted it 6 times in case you think less of me)
I'll understand if you hate me after that confession but don't judge me too harshly, its my weakness. To be honest I might as well have a pile of money in front of me and every five minutes, in a Scottish accent, shout 'let me tell you where I am......ah'mmm oooot'  The second I leave the meeting I repeatedly hit my head off the nearest wall for being so much more of a corporate bot than anyone else, but the truth is, because I love my job I do get really into it. Too far into it perhaps. Oh dear.

Actually the banging my head against the wall thing leads me to another thing that happened to add to today's complete lunacy. I go to the loo for a quick wee when my phone starts to ring. It's a call I was waiting for so I'll be honest I did contemplate answering it but I find it quite unsavoury to have a conversation while weeing.  I'm always disturbed to hear people chatting whilst going about their daily business. How would that person in the bank feel discussing a direct debit if they knew the person they were talking to was 'mid wipe'.  Revolted I'd imagine.

Anyway so I'm hurrying to try and get out of the cubicle and I somehow manage to get myself tangled up (for the second time that day) which results in me falling forward and headbutting the toilet door.  It must have made a bang because the people either side of me ask if I'm alright. I'm actually not alright.  It really bloody hurt if you must know, however I do the British thing and laugh. Then I shout back 'hoho I'm fine, that'll teach me to drink vodka at work'.  Neither laugh. Oh dear god, they think I'm drunk at work, stumbling about headbutting doors. At that point I wish I was. 

When I finally do get out of the toilet (the walk of shame: would have only been worse had I just had a poo when I nutted the door) I notice in the mirror my forehead is forming into an egg and is the same colour as my hair (Still under my hat for fear of angering people)

I stay at my desk for the rest of the day. My trousers and pants are still damp from this mornings pouring rain. I don't take off my hat. I don't make eye contact with anyone. Everyone is still angry. There are still 2million calls in the call queue.  The stationary is still hidden. I am still the queen of corporate bullsh*t. I have headbutted a toilet door with my pants around my ankles. People at work think I'm drunk on vodka. (did I mention I wish I was)

I'm pleased to see the back of today.

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